Fetch, Boy

Here's another of my micro stories from last summer

 

“My old dog would have swum out into the bay and fetched your Frisbee. But he’s dead now, and my new dog won’t do it.”

What a useless thing to say to me. I’d like to call up the spirit of his old dog to fetch my Frisbee, and everything else that I have ever lost. Then I’d like to put both him and his new dog on a raft and push them out to sea, to the place where all the cross-currents catch you and pull you underneath.

He saw me playing with a Frisbee, and he must have thought I was like everyone else down here on the coastal path. But I’m not, and I was seeking a diversion to make me forget what I am, even if only for those few moments while a spinning discus loops across the sky and then boomerangs back to me.